


The Keeper

by Ulan



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Second Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 17:30:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8169995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ulan/pseuds/Ulan
Summary: We sometimes find what we need in unexpected places.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story is inspired by the song, 'The Keeper' by Kina Grannis and Marié Digby. Yes, I even used it as a title. It's a lovely song. ♥
> 
> The timeline here is sometime between the Fall of Eregion and the Battle of Gwathló, when Sauron held most of Eriador.

The High King Gil-galad commands the floor, having called an urgent meeting with his counsellors. Imladris is in peril and they need to decide what aid Lindon can send. The debate and negotiations have been going on for a while, difficult as it is to determine just how much Lindon can spare without crippling the last stronghold in Middle-Earth the Enemy cannot overcome, and how little Imladris, which barely has anything, can make do with in order to survive at all. 

The truth is that Glorfindel, the messenger who brought Imladris' plea for help, is barely standing on his feet. Whatever claim one might have in terms of prowess and endurance, in experience and skill in the battlefield, riding across an Eriador overrun by Orcs and every new creature Sauron found ways to mutilate beyond recognition is not an easy task. Months on horseback, of hiding and engaging in battle alike - each having happened as often as the other - has a way of coming back to you once you are on steady ground, and here in the safe confines of Lindon, Glorfindel can feel his body demanding respite he had refused it for so long.

They are living in trying times. Nearly all of Eriador has been captured by the Enemy save for a few strongholds held by the Elves and the Dwarves. Lindon, Hadhodrond, Lindorinand, and now barely, Imladris and Belegost - the remaining realms enduring one can count with his hands. Everything is urgent and important, and days of leisure and rest seem now but distant memories. 

And so he stands, bringing news of how things fare in Imladris and pushing for what they truly need. The tidings he bore were not good: Imladris is weak yet, a far cry from what they had and lost in Ost-in-Edhil. It needs more people - soldiers, builders, growers - in order to become what Lindon needs it to be, a stronghold in the East. Yet Lindon as it is is also stretched thin, and the enemy that is all over Eriador is one that only those like Glorfindel can withstand enough to send messages between the realms. 

Hence, the meeting keeps extending, stuck as they are at an impasse where both Lindon and Imladris are in need, each relying on the other yet unable to provide much in return. 

Glorfindel hides his exhaustion well, however, a skill he has long perfected in his days as lord and captain. Gil-galad did not see, and so he did not even think to delay this meeting, which has gone on now for close to two hours. Commanders and counsellors alike are scattered in the king's office, some sitting and some standing, for the meeting was quickly called and there had not been time to pull enough chairs.

There is one, however, in this sea of faces, that looks at Glorfindel and sees what he attempts to hide. Glorfindel notes that the other is his usual self, albeit perhaps having grown thinner in the months since Glorfindel had last seen him. But he stands, as he has always done, slightly apart from the rest, dark eyes fleeting from one speaking face to another, keeping tabs, making notes, memorising arguments and claims that he will later use as unquestionable premises to his own suggestions - the difference being that his shall be iron-clad. 

There is a lull in the discussion, or at least so Glorfindel thought, but he is not certain whether it was a true pause or his mind was already drifting away. He catches himself and quickly looks up, looks at the people around him to check if they noticed, and inevitably, looks at him. Sure enough, the dark-haired counsellor is looking at Glorfindel, eyes narrowed and more calculating this time around. Glorfindel wonders what he is thinking about when he sees Glorfindel like this. The other's face seldom betrays his thoughts, so that most of the time one has to wait for him to decide when he wishes to reveal himself.

The counsellor takes a step forward. He lets the last counsellor find a pause in his speech before he throws a challenge. It is not long before it shows that he speaks for Imladris, to Glorfindel's relief, which soon has the floor afire as the debate heats up again. This time, however, they quickly dispose of arguments that did not work so only viable options remain, and a vote is cast. 

It does not take long after that to reach a number of people and supplies to be sent to Imladris, and soon they reach a decision that the king decrees to be acceptable. Even Gil-galad seems taxed by the talks and he dismisses them with a weary wave of his hand, calling only for one of his assistants to draft the events of the evening and to prepare a letter to Elrond.

The council disperses. Glorfindel, however, remains, moving enough not to cause suspicion, but though he stands in exhaustion still, this time with the memory of those fleeting looks, he waits as well with likely poorly concealed anticipation. 

He does not wait long. In the next moment, there is another presence beside him. 

"Come, Captain." 

Spoken low, not for anyone to hear save Glorfindel. He passes Glorfindel, long, dark hair falling straight down his back, but wisps of them swaying enough with his movement that for a moment, the air is shaded with faint traces of the woods, and of parchment and candle smoke.

Glorfindel follows him and they are lost in the crowd. They walk quietly enough so that it does not even seem as if they are walking together, and ever had the other have a way of moving that goes by unnoticed by others. Glorfindel has long admired that about him. 

They walk until the number of people walking with them grows few, and then until it is just the two of them. His office is nearby, Glorfindel knows, but he furrows his brows when they pass the familiar turn. 

The other keeps walking. 

"Erestor," Glorfindel calls him. 

Erestor turns back only long enough to raise an eyebrow at Glorfindel. He then tips his head to the hallways to which he is leading them and turns his back again, though not rudely. Erestor has just always been one of few words. 

Despite the unfamiliar path they are taking, Glorfindel soon realises where they are headed. He looks back at Erestor, his anticipation renewed. He has never been invited like this before, their initial meetings usually in semi-public grounds and later, mostly in Glorfindel's rooms. Soon, however, Erestor stops at a door and takes out a key from his pocket; he unlocks the door to a room Glorfindel has not yet entered, and he beckons him in. 

Glorfindel has never been to Erestor's rooms. Back when Glorfindel resided in Lindon, they mostly spent time together in his rooms, for after all, Glorfindel has ever been the quicker one of them to issue an invitation. Now a resident of Imladris, however, Glorfindel no longer has those rooms in the palace, at least to his knowledge. Perhaps that is just as well, as it now gives him reason to be welcomed here.

They spend only time enough to get the door closed before Glorfindel is pulling Erestor to himself. Ever weighed by weariness from his long journey, he wraps his arms around Erestor, one on his waist and the other going around the back beneath the hair, touching Erestor's nape even as he buries his nose against that pale stretch of neck below the ear. 

Glorfindel breathes him in, long and deeply so that the very scent of him fills Glorfindel until he is almost dizzy. When he exhales, it comes as a great sigh, and with it out goes the stress, the anxiety of days on the road, the doubt of how well they shall fare in the battles to come. He breathes him in, and out goes all thoughts of war. 

It brings such intense relief to do this. Valar, it has been so long.

Erestor, bless him, is always quick to understand. His arms immediately wrap around Glorfindel, fingers threading through golden hair, bringing with them comfort and that familiar tingling sensation that Glorfindel so loves. He lets Glorfindel do as he pleases, lets him hold him as tightly as he needs. Erestor endures it quietly, and time passes as they remain that way, nothing moving save for fingertips and the occasional brush of lips against what skin they could reach. 

Glorfindel's breathing soon grows steady, improving from the shallow breaths of earlier that barely had the blood pumping where he needed it. He feels his limbs now grow warmer, his head becoming clearer, and he clings to him more, encouraged by the soothing comfort he brings.

"Welcome back," he hears Erestor say in his ear. Erestor's voice is deep and soothing and it runs through Glorfindel like gentle summer breeze, never failing to call him back from the stresses of the field. Erestor then holds him tightly so that it is almost difficult to breathe. He kisses Glorfindel's hair and goes back to caressing it the way Glorfindel likes, doing everything right and exactly how Glorfindel needs it. "You have done well, Glorfindel."

It should be silly how such words could still bring one such as he joy and fulfillment, as though he truly accomplished something better than delivering messages and news. Glorfindel is old, way past the point that one still counts the years, and yet so effectively do Erestor's praises work on him still, a tactic so juvenile one uses it on children below the age of ten. Then again, Erestor never really had much difficulty with him.

Erestor does not wait for him to speak, and Glorfindel realises that he himself had no intention to do so in the first place. Sometimes Erestor does these things, reading Glorfindel so well and recognising things about him that Glorfindel himself has not yet even come to realise. Yet he does things on his own in response to an unspoken request that he must have seen nowhere else but from Glorfindel, for always the things he does are so on point, and never fail to delight. 

Just like now. 

While still in the circle of Glorfindel's arms, Erestor pulls away enough for his hands to go to the brooch on Glorfindel's riding cloak, then on the buckles of his belt. Glorfindel smiles, for it is all the invitation he needs to bend the short way needed to take Erestor's lips in a kiss. 

Erestor's kisses have always had a way of igniting such fire in Glorfindel. No matter how tired he feels, Glorfindel always ends up kissing him with such desire and fervour one would expect from someone much younger. But Erestor's mouth is like nothing Glorfindel has ever tasted - sweet in that way he finds difficult to define, hot and slick and with a tongue so skilled, he cannot bring it in himself to ask whether Erestor is naturally talented or whether he has learned it all from somewhere else. Glorfindel does not want to know. All that matters is that Erestor kisses him like he intends to melt him from the inside out, commanding his body to respond to him by lips and tongue alone. 

And oh, how his body responds. 

Glorfindel takes him now, both hands cupping Erestor's face. He tilts Erestor's head back, positioning him in such a way that best lets him receive Glorfindel's kisses. He feels Erestor falling back, handing Glorfindel the reins; he opens his mouth to Glorfindel's kisses, and even moans out his surrender. 

Oh, he is such a remorseless seducer. Erestor is so good that Glorfindel wonders once again how it can be that it is all for him. Not also for the first time does he wonder what it would have been like to have had him in Gondolin. Things would have been so different; failures would have been more bearable, losses more quickly endured. He would have been spared such heartbreak if he only had Erestor to come home to all those centuries ago. 

He is Glorfindel's first lover, although Glorfindel understands that things are a little different in this age and people are no longer so stringent when it comes to how many lovers they take in a lifetime. He actually surprised himself with how quickly he warmed to such ideas in this new age. Then again, perhaps that is once again Erestor's doing. Glorfindel wanted him the moment he met him - a novel experience, for he had not known romantic love nor desire in his previous life, and so meeting Erestor had been a revelation. Glorfindel found him beautiful beyond words, intelligent, funny in that subtle way, and by the Valar, when he moves... never had Glorfindel felt so enflamed. He cannot be the only one who has ever felt this way about Erestor, to have been so ensnared - but again, he really does not want to now.

"What are you doing?" Erestor suddenly whispers against Glorfindel's lips. Their lips are touching still that those words and breath tickle at his skin, making Glorfindel graze his bottom lip with his teeth, heat pooling in his groin he almost misses what Erestor says. "Quiet your mind, Glorfindel." 

Glorfindel grins at the remark and kisses him again. Sweet Erestor, he truly must be a mind reader. 

"Quiet it yourself," he challenges him back, between slow, deep and heady kisses.

Erestor smiles slowly in that way that goes straight down for Glorfindel. Once again proving Glorfindel to be completely transparent, Erestor moves against him and rubs against the hardness now pressing against the seams of his breeches. Glorfindel groans at the sudden pleasure.

"Come along, then. You look like you can barely stand." This time, fingers wrap around the shape of Glorfindel's cock from outside his clothes, and Erestor catches the resulting moan in a searing kiss. He chuckles in that kiss even as he gives his captive a firm squeeze, drawing out moans again. "Although perhaps the reason for it is different now from what it was in the meeting earlier." 

He pulls Glorfindel the few paces towards the bed. They stand to the side and Erestor pulls at the ties on Glorfindel's shirt, loosening it enough to pull it over his head. He then makes quick work of Glorfindel's breeches as Glorfindel kicks off his own boots and socks. Erestor's face is close enough to kiss, and so Glorfindel takes his chin, tilts it up all prepared for the taking, but Erestor merely smiles at him, a faint curling at the corner of his lips. He pulls back and denies him the kiss, goes down on his knees instead to pull down Glorfindel's breeches, and places his mouth around something else. 

Glorfindel swears loudly. His head falls back and his eyes squeeze shut even as his fingers tangle against silky black hair. His voice gurgles from the back of his throat as Erestor takes him deep, nearly to the base, mouth so hot and the insides so soft that it takes every thought out of Glorfindel's mind, leaving nothing but searing white. Glorfindel looks down in time to watch Erestor pull back and then suck him in again, lips wet and red around Glorfindel's cock and Valar, he should not have looked. His knees feel about to buckle. 

Erestor hums around his mouthful, sensitive to Glorfindel's groans and reactions above him. He opens his eyes and looks pointedly up at Glorfindel only for a moment before he is closing his eyes again, dark lashes dusting the high flush on his cheeks, hands taking Glorfindel's so they would hold him on both sides of his head. His mouth then goes slack, his tongue running along the underside in a way that makes Glorfindel groan, in no way able to refuse such an invitation. His fingers curl beneath Erestor's hair and he thrusts into that delicious heat. 

Erestor's moans join his as the pleasure rises. Glorfindel takes his length and plunges it back into that beautifully swollen mouth, in and out and over and over until he senses himself grow delirious with ever thrust. Meanwhile, his eyes still closed, Erestor begins pulling at the ties of his own robes, slowly revealing stretches of pale skin - neck, collarbone, shoulders. Glorfindel watches it all with a heated gaze, his breaths coming in great huffs as he watches more of that smooth, white skin revealed, a stark contrast from the dark hair falling against it now in alluring tangles. His mouth waters as Erestor finally sheds his robes, letting the dark silk fall off his arms and to the floor. The sight of him is nearly too much that Glorfindel pulls back, squeezes himself at the base to keep from finishing too early. He pulls Erestor up back to his feet and claims his lips in another hot kiss. 

Erestor allows the kiss for a moment, but soon pushes Glorfindel to bed before rummaging for something in the bedside drawer. Glorfindel sinks against cool and smoothest cotton - trust Erestor to own such luxuries - and he closes his eyes, deeply breathes the familiar scent of his lover, heady and all around him from the pillows and the covers. He is losing himself once again, and despite the exhaustion, despite the fact that even now he fights back the heavy drowsiness brought by many nights without sleep, he wants this, feels his body burning for a reunion long denied. 

Erestor climbs on top of him, vial of oil in hand, and Glorfindel welcomes him with open arms. Erestor descends upon him, his long hair falling on both side of their faces like a dark curtain shielding them from the world. He kisses Glorfindel, slow and sweetly, but also still effectively kindling the fire Glorfindel earlier sought to quell. His hands stray to Glorfindel's thighs, fingers dragging along the heated skin. Glorfindel, noting their position, spreads his legs for him, welcoming Erestor. 

Erestor moves against him as though to take the offer, but even as he does so, he stops, seems to hesitate, and pulls back. He then straddles Glorfindel and looks at him for a moment before he is reaching for the vial. He pours oil on his fingers, but instead of reaching for Glorfindel, he reaches behind himself. Though Glorfindel cannot see what those fingers are doing, the way Erestor closes his eyes and throws back his head is telling. Glorfindel's blood jumps at the sight of him, at the _thought_ of what he is doing. Still...

"Why, though?" he asks him. He bites his lip and hisses with Erestor when he senses the other go particularly deep, his fingers curling against Erestor's thighs and his pleasure doubling with every sign of what Erestor is doing to himself. By Elbereth, Erestor is nothing short of amazing. "I thought you wanted to, and anyway I am too tired. I was willing." 

Erestor slowly opens his eyes and looks at him in that way that makes Glorfindel feel as though his mind is being read again. There are times like this when Erestor pauses after a question from Glorfindel. It is not because he chooses his words like he does with others, but more that he seems to decide what to do and judges what options are best, for always, even with the multitude of answers he could give, he says the things that Glorfindel most wishes to hear. 

And tonight is no exception. Erestor smiles at Glorfindel before saying, "I always want to, but perhaps some other time. If you are tired, then just let me do the work." 

With no other warning than that, he rises up and sinks himself on Glorfindel's cock. Their matching groans reverberate around the room, bouncing off the walls and filling their senses further with their shared pleasure. Glorfindel's hips rise from the bed in his attempt to bury himself deeper in that tight heat. 

So long... so long without and suddenly this. There is no way he can last this, not with Erestor moving atop him as though he himself had also spent all those months longing for Glorfindel. Erestor takes Glorfindel as though he is not merely allowing him this favour; he looks as though he needs it himself, wants it for himself, and the very idea of it arouses Glorfindel as much as Erestor's actions have done.

He holds on to Erestor's hips, setting the pace, pulling him down to Glorfindel's cock even as Glorfindel thrusts up to him from below. Erestor cries out at a particularly good thrust, making Glorfindel grin, especially with Erestor's head falling back again as he moans and breathes out a near unconscious, "Right there." 

He truly is a wonder, has to be the best of lovers. Glorfindel cannot understand how people in this age could ever let lovers go, if all encounters are like this. He soon feels them both growing close. Yet the closer they get, the more Glorfindel gets frustrated with their pace - not nearly fast enough. With what remains of his strength, he drags Erestor down and rolls them so that he is now beneath Glorfindel. 

Erestor moans out at the new position and arches up to Glorfindel, who then catches him mid-arch, pulls him tighter against himself and spreads those legs farther apart and around Glorfindel's waist. Erestor's hands fall hard beside his head as Glorfindel takes him hard this time, deep thrusts at the beginning, growing faster as they set the angle and the rhythm. The pleasure builds again, higher this time around, until Erestor's fingers are curling against the grooves on the headboard and he is crying out and moaning his approval as Glorfindel finally fucks him in his bed. 

They come nearly together, Glorfindel first at the sight and sound and sensation of being inside Erestor once again, and then Erestor soon after as Glorfindel's heat fills him, as he continues to pump inside him in and out, riding out an orgasm that came hard and lasts long, as can be expected after having been so long parted. 

With the end of their lovemaking Glorfindel is once again hit by his own dwindling strength. He holds himself up only long enough to pull out carefully, before he is slumping down on top of Erestor, now feeling as though he cannot move. 

Thankfully, Erestor does not complain, and merely even chuckles as his arms wrap around Glorfindel. His fingers once again find Glorfindel's hair, which makes Glorfindel smile even as the clouds of sleep begin to descend upon him. 

"I will go with you to Imladris," he hears Erestor say. 

At first the words do not register, so sleepy does Glorfindel feel. But then they do sink in and Glorfindel suddenly blinks himself awake, lifting his head and staring at Erestor with wide eyes. "What did you say?"

"You said you needed builders and warriors; I am both." Gentle fingers lift up to caress the sides of Glorfindel's face, brushing away wavy strands of hair. "And Elrond, I believe, long under Gil-galad and now suddenly sundered from him, also needs a counsellor and a tactician. I will be of use there." 

Joy blooms in Glorfindel's chest, fast and overwhelming that it even threatens to suffocate him. He kisses Erestor hard, lost for words. Fortunately, never has Erestor needed much words from him to understand. He laughs at Glorfindel, kissing back only enough before he is pushing him down beneath the covers, ordering him to sleep. 

Really, he is everything Glorfindel needs. Admittedly, Glorfindel had been holding himself back, uncertain of things yet between them, especially with the customs of these times. But surely this is promising, Erestor coming to Imladris, and surely he cannot be so good and gentle and giving to someone he does not care about. 

Glorfindel decides to take more, try for more, and so he pulls Erestor to his own chest and holds him in place. He feels Erestor shake his head, but also feels him smiling, even laughing, before he is settling down to rest against Glorfindel. His arms come around Glorfindel, too, and he even sighs. 

Surely, the Valar must allow him this. Surely, he can look upon Erestor and demand love apart from just comfort, like people used to in the old days. Glorfindel is no fool to not recognise hope having taken root in his chest; soon it shall bloom, watered by Erestor's constant attentions and gentle care. Ever has he been Glorfindel's refuge, the one he always returns to. It must be so obvious, Glorfindel's great affection for him, but Erestor never complained, never sought to stop Glorfindel's approaches. 

And so, helplessly, Glorfindel falls deeper for him with every encounter, every moment shared. He wants him by his side at all times. Foolish though such thoughts may be at such tumultuous times, he wishes for them all the same. 

He wraps his arms tightly around Erestor, and for the first time in many days, Glorfindel sleeps.

**Author's Note:**

> I am beginning to have a bad (or good?) habit of perving on Erestor when I am stressed and overworked. I don't really know what that means, except that I know that this story was originally G-rated, and it was originally supposed to be a drabble. *cough*
> 
> But yeah, I am in need of comfort and something nice and warm myself, and a gentle Erestor never fails to do just that. This is a good story for Glorfindel, I think. I don't think I have been all that nice to him in recent stories, lol.


End file.
